Rebuilding the Impossible Room
by benzo-hime
Summary: An exhausting marriage and an even more exhausting divorce leaves Harry bored and depressive. But what happens when McGonagall offers him the DADA position at Hogwarts, as well as head of Gryffindor House? It seems, with Malfoy as Potions Master and Slytherin Head, there will be no end to their rivalry.
1. Chapter 1

Rebuilding the Impossible Room, Chapter 1

A/N: Yay, I finally found a plot I like for a Drarry fic. The chapter's in this are going to be much shorter than my other fic, which is a Sirius/OC mystery fic (therefore foreshadowing is easier with longer chapters, since it can be conveniently inserted whenever I think of where the story will turn next). I'm aiming for around 2,000 words for each chapter, although this one may be a bit shorter. So yeah, hope you enjoy this :) I'm hoping to have this fic be around 20K words, something fairly fluffy. Although, and bear with me, Harry might be a bit morose in the beginning. But hey, that's why we need Draco :) to cheer Harry up.

Harry awoke with a start, cursing after his owl's large screech. She had been christened Berta by Ginny, who apparently had a knack for terrible pet naming. Harry winced a little. It was too early to be thinking of Ginny. And yet, there she was, a painful reminder of three years. Three useless years. In the end, it came down to lack of interest. At first, when Harry felt she was starting to get bored, he tried all the usual things. Fancy dinners, kinky sex, expensive wine. But it seemed, the charm of Harry Potter had worn off after three years. And Harry couldn't blame Ginny for it.

After all, what had he done over these past three years? Trained to be an Auror, only to realize it couldn't compare to before. Catching petty criminals was not a thrilling job, especially after avenging Voldemort.

Harry gave a great sigh, and reminded himself not to dawdle on things that didn't matter anymore. It was the last week of August. He had a few days before he started the new job.

It seemed, even with Voldemort gone, the jinx on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job had stayed. Hogwarts had re-opened last year, and the new teacher had found out, 6 months in, that his mother was gravely ill. And, who better to teach it than Harry Potter himself? Not that Harry needed the gold, but life was just dull without a job. He'd spent the better part of this year exploring various hobbies, but his ambitious nature couldn't be sated.

Berta screeched once more. Ginny called her "Bert" most of the time, making it sound like "bird". Harry reminded himself, once more, to knock it off and went to feed Berta.

August heat had settled in by midday, and Harry decided to cool down by broomstick instead of cooling charm. All thoughts of Ginny and the divorce had fled his minute moment he kicked off. He had picked a house on a cliff, with a rocky beach below. Reachable only by broom.

Harry skimmed the water with his toes, enjoying the salty taste of the ocean air.

By the afternoon, he was all packed and ready. Harry sat down in his squishy arm chair, so like the ones in the Gryffindor common room, and doubts flooded his mind. What if he got there and decided their were too many bad memories? That he was reliving all the hellish parts of his life? But also all the best, a little voice added in his subconscious.

Besides, it was far too late for McGonagall to find a replacement at this point. And DADA was a core subject. Harry did his best to fix his hair, which had calmed down, if only a tiny bit, over the years. It was still pointless, the hair did whatever it pleased. Surrendering to his bed head, Harry grabbed his trunk and owl cage, and disapparated to Hogsmead Station.

Harry met Hagrid, filled with nostalgia. He hadn't seen Hagrid in months. McGonagall had, out of pure goodness of heart, allowed him to keep the Care of Magical Creatures position. At least Harry had him and Neville, though he wasn't sure which other teachers stayed. He didn't read the papers much these days. It wasn't as if anything exciting really happened anymore.

Hagrid and Harry walked to the front gates, waiting on a house elf to get Harry's things, and headed back to Hogsmead to visit the Three Broomsticks for a pint.

"So, I hear Hermione's pregnant," Hagrid said, his usual bluntness evident.

"Yeah, she's due in February. I still can't really believe it," Harry said, chatting.

"Ah, tha's great. I'm real happy for 'er, although it'll be ruddy difficult, teachin' more Weaselys. Fred and–" Hagrid abruptly stopped, and muttered, "Oh sod it all," and ordered a firewhiskey.

"So," Harry said, attempting to retrieve the conversation. "So, you and Olympe still going strong, then?"

"Oh yeah, yeah we're great. Went shark-fishing in Madagascar a few weeks ago. Them people there were stunned to see us, us bein' the size we are. Although, I suppose Asia was worse. The people are just so tiny." Hagrid seemed lost for words by his own statement, as if he simply wasn't able to process the smallness.

"Anyway, how've you been in the romance department? Seen anyone since Ginny?" Hagrid said, as insensitive as always. Which was surprising, considering the last time Harry had seen him, Hagrid had pulled out two tankards and bottle of Rosmerta's finest. And then another. And another, though Hagrid naturally poured double for himself. It was odd, to see Hagrid turn into Harry's drinking mate. It certainly wasn't cheap, but Harry enjoyed it. At least Hagrid wasn't an angry drunk like Ron.

"Ah, no. Not really," Harry tried to sound bored. But Hagrid's eyes twinkled, and Harry knew he hadn't pulled it off. Or, perhaps, Hagrid was just pretty drunk and in a daze.

They whiled away the afternoon, and Harry decided to try and sober himself before returning to the castle. His ruddy cheeks certainly wouldn't make a good impression with McGonagall.

"No, really, you go on Hagrid. I just need to get some more appropriate robes for teaching," Harry said. Hagrid had conceded, although Harry suspected it was mainly because Hagrid didn't fit inside Walpurga's Wizarding Wear.

Harry opened the door, only to find himself facing a pair of piercing grey eyes.

"Potter. What're you doing all the way over hear?" Malfoy's tone wasn't unkind, though slightly territorial.

"Shopping," Harry said, gesturing around. "It's what people do in shops, mainly. And interrogate, apparently."

Malfoy smirked, "I meant, what are you doing in these parts? Shouldn't you be off having loads of redheaded little brats with your wife?"

"You're a fucking git, Malfoy," Harry said. His divorce had been well reported on in the papers. At least, according to Ron and Hermione. And the occasionally pitying looks he'd received from wizards on the street.

But Malfoy looked genuinely confused. "Alright, nice to see your back to your old, mental self again, Potter. This has been a nice chat." He turned to leave.

"Wait," Harry said, "You didn't know?"

"Didn't know what, Potter? Speak plainly."

"I got divorced. A couple months back, actually. It was all over the Prophet."

"Oh," Malfoy seemed to struggle to find the correct words. "Sorry, I don't read the Prophet anymore. Load of rubbish."

"Me neither," Harry agreed, glad they could find some common ground.

"So, why are you here?" Malfoy asked, once the atmosphere cleared.

"Truth be told, I'm here for the job. I'm the new Defense professor."

Draco looked murderous, "I can't McGonagall didn't tell me, I knew she was hiding something. Her lips always reappear when she's hiding something. Bloody old bat."

"And why would she tell you?" Harry asked, amused.

"Because I'm the Potions Master, git."

"Oh," was all Harry could think to say. He contemplated the thought of him and Malfoy as colleagues. The thought was laughable.

"I'm going to kill her," Draco muttered. "No offense," he added, sarcastically.

"Of course, how could I possibly interpret that to be offensive?" Harry replied, equally sarcastic. "After all, why would you ever want to offend me?"

"Bugger off, Potter, I just found out I'm spending the better part of my year with you. Or worse, if you wanna get technical."

Harry scowled, "I won't tarnish your day with my presence any longer, then. Goodbye, Malfoy."

Malfoy muttered, "First Longbottom, now him," but realized that he actually sort of looked forward to teaching with Potter. He shrugged to himself. Longbottom never had good comebacks anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Rebuilding the Impossible Room, Chapter 2

A/N: Firstly, I'd like to say thanks for reading. Secondly, keep in mind that the opinions expressed by the characters in this chapter aren't necessarily my own, and they are there for characterizing purposes. Thirdly, z's once these chapters are quite a bit shorter, I want to try and update every few days, at least. That's all folks.

August 30th

Draco could not believe his eyes when he saw Harry Potter at he Heads of Houses meeting. He supposed he should have known. The Defense teacher was usually Head of Gryffindor, McGonagall had been an exception. Because, of course, Gryffindors were brave. Maybe some were, but it was overshadowed by a thirst for attention and martyrdom.

"Now, as I'm sure you all know, we have a new Head of Gryffindor this year," McGonagall said, gesturing to Potter and clapping. Longbottom and Flitwick followed suit. Draco caught Harry's eye, smirked, and lazily clapped along.

McGonagall made a small speech, which covered everything from students staying out after hours to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Everyone was getting up to leave as McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Professor Potter, Professor Malfoy, a word, please."

Longbottom shot Potter a look that plainly said, "Good luck, mate."

Draco resisted an urge to groan, feeling that acting on the urge would be childish.

"Now," McGonagall said, looking sternly between their sullen faces. "I know you two don't fancy each other."

Potter gave a wry grin.

"But really, grow up!"

Draco wasn't sure whether to feel pleased to see the savior told off, or offended at being told to grow up.

"Potter, you spoke at Malfoy's trial, did you not?" McGonagall said sternly.

Harry didn't say anything, and McGonagall continued to give him her sharp look.

"Yeah," he said, sheepish.

Draco blushed a bit. He had remembered Potter standing up at the trial for him and saying his bit. He also spoke for his mother, though he was absent for his father. Which wasn't altogether surprising, considering how many times Lucius had tried to kill him. All the same, Draco never got a chance to properly thank him. Feeling he should say something, Draco cleared his throat.

"Thank you." His voice came out stronger than he felt. How many times over did he have to be indebted to Potter? "For mm the trial, and for my life, as well."

Potter looked startled. This clearly hasn't been what he was expecting. He nodded. Merlin, how could he be this terrible at accepting thanks? Had he not saved the world?

McGonagall looked as though she were suppressing a smile. "Well then, that makes things a bit easier. I have a task for you two this year. It is both part of the castle restoration, and a way to work on your relationship."

Potter looked, if possible, even more bewildered.

"Which is... ?" Draco said lazily. McGonagall shot him one of her stern looks. Their relationship hadn't changed much, although they had a grudging acceptance of each other. That, and McGonagall could no longer give him detention.

"Which is rebuilding the Room of Requirement," she said, peering at them over her spectacles. They both gaped at her.

"Well," the Headmistress said dryly, "I'm glad to see you agree on something."

"But, ma'am," Potter said, trying to keep his tone as respectable as possible. "That room was impossible magic. Besides, wouldn't this be more Professor Flitwick's area of expertise?"

"It wasn't impossible, Potter. Clearly, someone managed it before," Draco said.

"Yeah, but we're not Godric Gryffindor or Salazar Slytherin," he replied.

"Enough. Potter, did you not defeat Voldemort?" Harry felt a rush of satisfaction whenever someone didn't say Lord Voldemort.

"Well, yeah, but that prophecy and lu–"

McGonagall's nostrils flared, "Don't you dare say luck, Potter."

"Fate, then," Potter was getting heated. "I had a lot of help. Seriously, if everyone could just realize–"

"That's quite enough," McGonagall said tartly. "You defeated the Dark Lord, you are bound to get recognition. I'm well aware you had help. I was there."

Potter held his jaded expression.

"Really, Potter, get over yourself. It must be so hard, being the hero of the wizarding world," Draco snarled, unamused by Potter's self-pity party.

"Enough." There was a chord of finality in McGonagall's voice. "You will do your best to rebuild the Room of Requirement over the course of this year. You may consult myself, Flitwick, or any other Professor you see fit. You will work together. Good day."

Grumbling, Draco and Harry exited the headmaster's office.

Harry had been desperately looking for Dumbledore's portrait during the meeting. Had he somehow lost it in the sea of previous headmasters? He was going to hang back and ask McGonagall, but she'd looked so stern that he didn't dare.

"So, any ideas where to start?" Harry asked Malfoy.

"On our relationship? Perhaps if you stopped spewing self-pity like you're the bloody hopping cauldron, we might be able to be civil."

"Look, Malfoy, you don't know what it's like–"

"Don't I?" Malfoy cut in curtly. "Trust me, Potter, I've had my fair share of press coverage, not nearly as positive as yours. Speaking of which, I doubt it matters anymore, but I'm sorry about Fourth year. I was a prat. About the whole Rita Skeeter thing, I mean. I won't apologize for being a prat in general, it was Fourth year."

Harry blinked, trying to process all this information. This was the second time Malfpy had apologized to him today.

"Don't strain yourself too hard," Malfoy commented.

"Nice to see you're concerned," Harry grinned.

"Yes, well, it wouldn't do for me to have to rebuild that room all by myself." Draco grinned back.

Their arguing was almost friendly nowadays. It seemed Draco Malfoy really had grown up, shocking as it was. Harry blushed at the thought, realizing he meant it physically as well.

"There's a couple hours til lunch. Fancy a Seeker's game?" Harry asked. He had realized Draco had been his only real worthy adversary when it came to Quidditch.

"Are you asking me out?" Malfoy asked, shooting Harry a sly grin. Harry's blush spread from his cheeks and out to his face, like a drop of paint hitting water. Harry hoped it wouldn't be noticeable, he, unlike Malfoy, had managed to tan over his vacation.

"Aw, Potter, stop your blushing, I'm only teasing," Malfoy chortled. Harry felt foolish and slightly pissed. "What're you blushing for, anyway? I thought you were straight."

Harry's eyes widened, "I am, you fucker. I thought you were straight!"

"No need to get defensive, Potter. And why would you ever think that?"

Potter adopted his usual deer in headlights look, "You and Pansy–"

"We were friends. Even then, she was more of a growth on my side. Turned out to be quite the unpleasant one, at that." He was, no doubt, referring to the incident during the battle of Hogwarts, where Pansy had expressed that Hogwarts should just hand Harry over to Voldemort.

"Oh, I see," Harry felt slightly uncomfortable around Malfoy's piercing gaze. Harry had never been homophobic, it felt odd to find out that Malfoy, of all people, was. His perception of gay guys was of a poncey guy who dressed in very tight jeans and wore make up. Well, Malfoy, was very vain.

"So, is your hair dyed?"

Malfoy burst out laughing. "No, Potter, I'm not quite that gay. Although that's actually bloody hilarious."

The laughter had transformed his face. He looked quite handsome this way. From an entirely non-sexual standpoint. Yes, Malfoy really had grown up. Nicely. Harry decided that he'd like to be friends with Malfoy. Bickering was turning into more of sport, they said nothing which would actually hurt the other person.

Malfoy was still smiling that genuine smile. It was the first time Harry had seen such an expression on his face. It was the sort of smile that made Harry feel nice and warm inside.

"You're staring, Potter," Malfoy said, a suggestive grin unfurling itself on his face.

Harry blushed slightly and muttered, "It's just the first time I've seen you smile like that."

"Do you like it?" Malfoy asked, his tone genuine, all flirting forgotten.

"Yes." The answer was at the tip of Harry's tongue and wouldn't stay put, despite Harry's mad blush. So is Malfoy just flirting, or is he just being friendly? Don't be stupid, Harry thought. Malfoy's hated me for years, he's not going to suddenly get a big crush on the guy who was his worst enemy for 7 years.

Malfoy smiled again. It was radiant, lifting his cold features into something much warmer and lighter. It was off to feel such warmth from Malfoy. All Harry wanted to do was give him a hug, but resisted the insane urge.

"Seeker's game, then Hogsmead for a bite?" Harry asked. "This Hogsmead meeting can't be any worse than our last one."

"I don't know, Potter, I had quite a bit of fun during our last visit."

"Glad to hear it. I was tanked," Harry chortled. "Hagrid and I went to the Three Broomsticks."

"Really? You can't have been that drunk, I'm sure I'd have noticed."

"Well, I'd say mildly drunk, at that point. I'm fairly good at holding my liquor."

"Are you now? Well we'll see about that. Drinking after dinner?"

Harry grinned. "I don't see why not. I'll need a bit of booze to tolerate you company, anyway, Malfoy."

"Yes, it will ease my hideous likeness to your blind and bespectacled little eyes."

"Hmm, I don't think you have anything to worry about there. I more meant your terrible comebacks and general git-ness."

"Yes, well, you're dumb, and that's not a word," Malfoy did a sarcastic imitation of his regular sneer. Harry stuck out his tongue, playing along with Malfoy's childlike antics.

They made their way onto the pitch in high spirits.

Draco had beat Potter, not terribly badly, but enough where he was feeling quite smug.

"Yeah, well, don't take it too badly Potter. It's not your fault I'm better than you in every way."

"Yeah, yeah," Potter grumbled. Potter looked so cute, covered in sweat and wearing only a t-shirt and jeans. Damn. Perhaps Malfoy should find someone to lay. Perhaps Harry could be his wingman tonight. The thought of it was laughable.

Harry pulled out one of his new robes. They were pinstripe dark slacks and a matching vest, which he slipped over a fresh white dress shirt. Harry had long ago learned that his fashion sense was terrible, and relied on either Madam Malkin or one of the Walpurga's employees to make outfits for him.

But the white would get soiled after drinking. Harry switched it out for black, on an afterthought. That can't mess up his outfit too badly.

Harry skipped the wizarding robes, due mainly to heat, and met Malfoy near the front gates.

The young professor had cleaned up nicely, also in slacks and a dress shirt, though no vest.

"It appears someone taught you how to dress, Potter, congratulations."

"Oh no, I don't actually dress myself."

"Ah, a clandestine house elf lover with good taste in cologne?"

"Oh, shut up, I don't have a lover." Harry resisted adding 'anymore', knowing it would ruin the atmosphere. "No, I just get outfits which are pre-arranged."

"Fair enough." Draco mulled over the fact that Harry was single.

"We've got to get you a girl, mate!" Draco said eagerly.

"I doubt I'd be ready for that, it's only been a few months–"

"No, Potter, think about it. You feel wretched about the divorce, right? Find a new lay, she gives you the warm and fuzzies, you bounce right back!"

Potter sighed. "You sound like Ron."

Draco was visibly affronted. "Please do not ever compare me to weasel, Potter. We're on our way to being friends, don't spoil it."

Potter's green eyes seemed to glow as he grinned. "I won't be making the same mistake again. Friends it is."

"With a healthy rivalry, of course. After all, we're are Slytherin and Gryffinfor Heads of House, respectively."

"Of course," Potter agreed, only half sarcastic.

"Well then, we'd better be off, while the night is young." Draco shot Harry another one of his grins, and Harry quite warm and fuzzy when he returned it. The only thing that bothered him was, how come he didn't feel that warm and fuzzy when Ron or Hermione smiled at him?

Pretty please review! 3 You will make my day/night (;


	3. Chapter 3

Rebuilding the Impossible Room, Chapter 3

Harry took another shot of Ogden's. Malfoy's lips were such a pretty pink color. Harry almost told him so, but thought better of it. Then realized what he was thinking, and mentally slapped himself. Ah well, he had always been a bit bicurious while drunk. He doubted most were picky while their system was sated with alcohol.

Wait– What? No, it's Malfoy. Stop it Harry, he told himself

"So, Potter. D'you think you're good to walk?" Malfoy drawled.

"Definitely," Harry said, with false bravado. They had settled on the Hog's Head, as it was easier to keep a low profile there. Malfoy complained about the grime until Aberforth told him to shut it, and leave if he wasn't ordering anything. Malfoy had promptly ordered 3 shots for both him and Harry. They had just finished their fourth.

"In that case, a finger of Morgan's Mahogany-Matured Mead. Each," Malfoy called to Aberforth.

"In fact, a finger for Aberforth himself, and he'd do well to come join us."

"Yer crazy, Potter," he growled, but his eyes held the familiar twinkle. "Ah, sod it, got nothing better ta do." The bar was empty less a couple of hags in the corner and a known pickpocket.

Aberforth poured three small glasses and levitated them over, then opened the bar to come join them. "One finger, then it'll be back to business fer me. Merlin, if Albus could see you now. Getting drunk with Malfoy. He'd join you and celebrate this union of Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"We're out of school, now. You do know that?" Malfoy said, gesturing with his glass. "And do you even know basic cleaning charms?"

Aberforth snarled. "I'll show you a cleaning charm!" Aberforth whipped out his wand, but Harry was quicker.

"Expelliamus!" Harry said quickly. Aberforth's wand shot out of his hand. "Nothing personal, Abe. Just don't want Hogwarts to have to find a new Potions Master one day before term."

"They made this git Potions Master?" Aberforth asked incredulously, gesturing towards Harry to give back his wand. "Unbelievable. Did you pay them off?"

"Oh, shove it up your ass," Malfoy laughed drunkenly. "Anyway," Malfoy eyed Aberforth's wand, which was now back in his hand, "we'll be out of your hair, dumble-number-two." Draco slurred the words so 'Dumble' and 'number' rhymed.

"Bottle of Ogden's and this Morgan's stuff, as well," Harry told Aberforth, who looked murderous. Dumbledore stood to tower over them.

He gave them a sour, grumpy look and they pulled out their money bags.

"10 galleons ought to cover it, right?" Malfoy called to Aberforth.

Aberforth's earlier grumpiness subsided a bit. "Suppose so."

Harry and Draco finished their fingers of mead and grabbed the bottles from the counter. They discovered, however, that they were too drunk to walk straight. They draped an arm around each other's shoulders.

Draco thought briefly, that it was incredibley comfortable to be pressed up against Harry Potter. But Potter wasn't gay, and Draco didn't think of him like that. At least, he hoped not. It would certainly complicate being his colleague.

Malfoy's warm breath tickled Harry's face. He immediately cast a large heating charm around them, melting some of the snow.

"So, Potter. As far as setting you up. What are your preferences? Blondes or brunettes? Or redheads, apparently?"

Harry groaned. "This again?"

"Yes. Just get it over with, Potter. Pick yourself up from the drunken haze. Find yourself a new girl, mate."

"No redheads."

"Ah, I see. Weaselette left you scarred for life, then?"

Harry laughed. "Maybe. She had nice red hair though. I'm not sure other red hair could compare to it." For a moment, Harry looked wistful. "Too bad she's a huge bitch, though."

Malfoy nodded fervently. "So, that leaves you with blondes or brunettes?"

Harry thought for a moment. He looked at Malfoy's hair. It was very nice.

"Blondes, I guess, but I don't care much."

"Pansy's out then," Draco said, grinning.

"Trust me, Malfoy, she was out far before the blonde versus brunette question."

They both laughed, wandering up the Hosmeade Main Street.

Harry's inebriated mind was struck by inspiration. "Malfoy, you said you're good at cleaning charms, yeah?"

"I'm excellent," Draco slurred. He had opened the new bottle of mead.

"That you are," Harry laughed. "I know a good place to go."

"Oh, Potter," Draco put on a faux-sultry expression. "You're not taking me back to your private rooms, are you?"

"Don't be stupid, we're too pissed to go back to the castle. McGonagall would fry us alive." Harry lead them up a curved an narrow path, through a small thicket of trees.

"The Shrieking Shack?" Malfoy asked incredulously. "Don't tell me you actually expect us to go inside?"

Harry rolled his eyes impatiently. The wintry wind had sobered him slightly. "It's safe. No one's been here in ages."

Harry brandished his wand, and blew off the front door. He strode inside and started sending cleaning charms at every corner, gesturing for Malfoy to help. To Malfoy's credit, he was a great help despite his state. He only broke two objects, a couple chairs. And quickly fixed them, swearing.

Next, was the Transfiguration. Harry spelled the walls into a soothing shade of maroon, and Malfoy had a 'tch' sound.

Malfoy made silver accents around the room, and transfigured the chairs into squashy armchairs, made of handsome dark leather.

They even managed to fix the chimney into something which would allow a safe fire. It took them about a half hour, but it was fun work.

"I'm too sober," Draco said at the end.

Potter just grinned at him. "I guess I could drink a bit more."

They finished off the mead, sitting opposite each other on an armchair which had been stretched into a sofa.

"So, why blondes?" Malfoy asked, trying not to sound too curious.

"Why all the questions?"

Draco wondered if he could pull off an impatient tone. He wasn't sure his tongue would allow it. "Because, Potter. I told you, we've got to find you a girl." Draco poked Harry in the stomach with a toe. Harry wasn't even sure when Malfoy had taken his shoes off.

"Don't you think it's stupid, us still calling each other by surname?"

"Stop trying to change the subject, Harry," Malfoy said smoothly.

"How're you even functioning? You have, like three shots on me and–"

Draco cut Harry off, "I said, stop interrupting."

Potter huffed.

"Blondes, hmm," Draco said. "I'm blonde. But I don't suppose you play for my team, yes," Draco covered his earlier stupid outburst.

"On just give in, Draco. It's impossible to date anyone who's not a friend already. They just gape at my scar, like idiots."

"Well, your blonde friends include me, Looney, that Fleur girl," Malfoy listed off.

"How'd you know about Fleur?"

"Fourth cousins," Malfoy said dismissively.

"I knew you had Veela blood," Harry exclaimed.

"Yes, Pot- I mean, Harry, my charm is inhuman."

"Well, not that, but maybe your hair color. I'm still surprised you don't dye it." And not sure if I believe you, Harry added in his head. Malfoy's hair was lighter than even Fleur's, and was nearer to white than blonde.

Draco gave him an annoyed look. "All," he put a great emphasis on the word, "of my hair is blonde, Potter. Feel free to check, if you'd like." Draco laughed. Harry blushed furiously.

"Thanks for the offer, Draco, but I'll pass this time. I believe you," Harry spluttered. A very drunk Malfoy was flirting with him, possibly? Perhaps Malfoy was always like this while he was drunk. That didn't matter much, though, what mattered was that Harry was enjoying it.

"Alright, I'll take the rain check."

Harry gave him a stupid grin, and reached for the bottle.

"You know, I like you," Draco said, and Harry gave him an incredulous look. "No, not like that," he said hurriedly. "I'm just having a Gryffindor moment, nothing romantic."

Did Harry feel... disappointed? No, that wasn't the right word, exactly.

"I know McGonagall wants us to rebuild the room." Draco didn't have to specify, they both knew what it meant. "Thank you, Harry. For saving my life. I owe it to you." Draco's voice was barely a whisper.

"Of course, Draco." It was painful for Harry to think back to those years. But he also couldn't pretend the better part of his life didn't exist. "I don't regret it."

Malfoy swallowed thickly.

They dawdled on the cough for a while, poking each other with their feet. It quickly became a tickle fight, which resulted in a mutual ceasefire. The two young wizards slumped into the couch, exhausted.

"It's been good, Harry," Draco said.

"I agree."

A/N: another chapter down! and a drinking scene. because all my stories are cliched. but hey, it's free and it's fanfic. so cliches are a given. I would be thrilled if any of you took the time to review! honestly, reviews warm my cold shriveled heart.

word count: 1,505


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